The Game
by KateMonster
Summary: It's the end of soccer season, which means it's time to... party? A little RyanSethLuke friendship piece. Set between "The Secret" and "The Best Chrismukkah Ever". Currently a work in progress.
1. Part One

**Title:** The Game  
**Author:** Kate Monster  
**Rating:** PG to be safe  
**Summary:** Set between "The Secret" and "The Best Chrismukkah Ever". The fall soccer season is over, and it's time to... celebrate? Or at least shake things up a little.   
**Disclaimer:** Characters by the great and powerful Josh Schwartz. Pay no attention to the chick behind the curtain.

Any time you ordered mushrooms on a pizza, they came lengthwise, sliced into little treelike shapes.  Ryan used to think he hated mushrooms, until he tried the sauteed mushrooms from the Italian place the Cohens liked to order from, and found that he had been mistaken, and he actually liked mushrooms a great deal.  He figured he had always been turned off by their appearance, and by the fifth grade science class where he'd learned they were a fungus.

Now, he found himself staring at a slice of mushroom pizza and couldn't for the life of him figure out why he thought he liked mushrooms.  Now, his appetite was quickly dwindling.

Around him were the grunts and slurps of sixteen hungry soccer players, and he didn't want to look at a one of them.  He'd hoped the whole soccer thing would help him make friends, but all it had done for him socially was to reinforce the fact that his multiple identities as _the kid from Chino who burned a house down_ and _Seth Cohen's best friend_ were not necessarily prime socialization designations.

At least in Chino he'd been a loner by choice, and most kids stood back or learned quickly to either leave him alone or suffer the consequences.  Now there were several teammates at his table whose asses he would gladly kick, but could only do so if he wanted a free ride back into state custody.  So he took it - the whispered insults, the stares, the snubbing.  Crude jokes about Marissa Cooper trading downwards for a ride she could actually afford.  That one had quite nearly cost him his freedom, Nordland was so helpfully standing beside the brick wall of the locker room at Del Vista and Ryan could have slammed him in to it.

But he didn't.

He sat now at Coach's left side.  A position that could have been mistaken for an honor, and Coach tried to pretend it was, but Ryan knew the truth.  He wanted to keep an eye on him.  He wanted to know who Ryan talked to, what they said to him.  He thought Ryan didn't know about the team meeting in October the day he was home sick with a fever, where Coach reamed the rest of the team out.  He told them to quit harassing Ryan and give him the ball once in a goddamn while if they wanted to win this year.  It hadn't worked, they came in fifth in the league, and this whole postseason pizza celebration seemed somehow anticlimactic.

"Hey, Ch - uh, Ryan, give me the Parmesan."  Ryan looked up and silently slid the cheese shaker towards Patrick, who apparently did know after all that his name was Ryan and not Chino.  Ryan had been wondering for awhile if he really did.  Still, as far as nicknames went, it could have been worse.  He still thanked his lucky stars that they'd never heard the jackass at Chino Hills who used to call him Smackwood, and also that Nordland's proposed Crapwood hadn't stuck.

"You even gonna eat that?"  
  


Ryan looked across the table with surprise to Luke, who had gone the entire season without exchanging a single conversational word with him, at practice or at games.  In fact, despite the fact that his old friends were pretty much shunning him as a rule now, Luke still managed to completely avoid letting on that he would have anything to do with Ryan Atwood.  It was almost a talent.

"Not hungry, I guess," Ryan said.

"Oh."  Luke picked up his pepperoni slice and took another bite.

"You kids stay put," Coach said, and hauled off for the bathroom.  Perplexed, Ryan watched him go and braced for the worst.

But it didn't happen.  

"You comin' to the party tonight?" Luke asked innocently.

Ryan glanced around to be sure Luke was speaking to him.  "No, I don't think so," he said carefully.

"Why not?  Season closer party.  It'd be fun."  
  


He blinked.  "Fun?" he repeated, not sure he'd heard right.

"Yeah.  Saunders' place is awesome.  He's got a pool table and a pinball machine."  
  


A pinball-?  "I got plans," Ryan said.

Luke's face fell.  "Oh.  Well, bring Marissa."  
  


"Not her," he said.  "Uh - she's at her mom's tonight.  Me and Seth."  
  


Thomas leaned over.  "Yeah, what's up with you two?  Are you married or somethin'?  Maybe Luke's dad can give you tips."  
  


Ryan tried not to wince.  "So.  Anyway.  I don't think Seth wants to come."  
  


Thomas snorted at that, which struck Ryan as rather juvenile, especially since he knew from locker room conversation that Thomas was still a virgin.  Oh, he said he wasn't, of course, but if he fooled most of the team, Ryan wasn't buying it.

Ryan set his jaw and pressed on.  "I'm not really in to parties."

Luke appeared slightly concerned at that.  "But it's for the whole team, man.  You're on the team, you gotta come."  
  


"Plans," Ryan said again simply.

"So?  Bring Cohen."  
  


Ryan's eyes widened.  "To the soccer party," he repeated slowly, as if he hadn't heard properly.

"Why not?"  Luke asked.

Had he not spent the past ten years in school with Seth every day?  Ryan stared at him.  "Why not?" he echoed.

"Yeah.  He came to half the games."  
  


Ryan didn't even blink.  "Yeah.  And seventy-five percent of this team has tried to kick his ass, or piss in his shoes at some point in the past three years."  
  


The voices around him seemed to be falling silent.  Ryan knew this couldn't be good.  He poked at a mushroom with his fork, hoping Coach would return soon.  It was a hope he was ashamed of, but nevertheless there it was.

"Like you don't want to kick his ass," Javier scoffed.

"Not like you do," Ryan shot back.  "And not like I want to kick yours."  
  


"Whoa," Luke said, alarmed.  "Whoa, Chino.  Chill out."  
  
Ryan shook his head and cut off a piece of mushroom-free pizza with his fork.  "I'm not goin' to the party," he muttered.

He was aware of heads quickly looking away from him and could tell without seeing that Coach had returned.

"Be right back," he said quietly as Coach sat down beside him, and he dropped his fork to the plate with a loud clatter, shoved his chair back, and bolted for the restroom.

He didn't really need to pee, he just needed to take a breather from the assholes long enough to take his blood pressure down a bit.  He'd made it through a whole season of this.  He could last through twenty more minutes of pizza.

The door opened again, and he cast an apprehensive sideways glance only to discover Luke.

"Hey, man, you gotta come tonight," Luke said.

"Asking me to a party in the men's room?  Luke."  He shook his head and stepped back.  "Luke.  C'mon, like you don't have enough gossip to deal with."

Luke blinked.  "Right.  Okay.  No.  Leave the funny up to Cohen.  And bring him already.  I can't be the only team outcast."  
  


"Why not?  I was doing fine in that category till you got ostracized," Ryan pointed out.

Luke leaned back against the door.  "And I'm still showing my face tonight. And you should, too.  Whether those guys out there like it or not, we _are_ on the same team."  
  


"I don't know what team you were on?  But I could barely get my cleats on the ball outside of drill practice."  
  


"So they're dicks.  Yeah.  They're still our teammates."  
  


"Uh huh.  And I'm not a team player."  
  


"So I hear."

Ryan rolled his eyes.  "I don't give a rat's ass if you go or not, Luke.  Could you just do me a favor and fuck off, now?  Please?"

"Don't you want to stick their noses in their own shit?  For once?"  
  


Ryan narrowed his eyes and scratched his neck.  "Yeah?  You got a plan?"  
  


"If I did, would you come?"  
  


Bluffing.  Ryan took another step back and folded his arms.  "Depends on the plan."  
  


The corners of Luke's mouth turned up.  "Okay.  Plan.  Hold on."  
  


Ryan grabbed for a paper towel.  "Let me know when you got one, then."  He wadded and tossed it at the garbage can, sinking it from six feet.  This year, soccer team, next year - basketball?  Of course, the basketball team was full of assholes, too.  In fact, team sports at Harbor were pretty much a cesspool.  Then again, there was always cross country.  Track.  Swimming.  

He had plenty of time to mull it over.  Nobody at the dinner table would be talking to him, after all.

*

Ryan hefted his bag over his shoulder as he struggled up the driveway.  He didn't even want to look back at Coach's car.

He hesitated at the top of the driveway.  Usually he'd just duck around the gardenias to the pool house straight off, but he needed to find Seth quickly.  After a moment, he turned to his right and fumbled with his bag as he reached for the door.  He fished his keys out and reached for the doorknob.  Open.  He dropped his keys back into the bag.

Ryan bounded over the steps and set off for the kitchen, determined.  "Seth?"  The kitchen was empty.  Ryan opened the fridge, pulled out a cranberry juice, and poked his head into the TV room.  Nobody, although Dynasty Warriors was back in the console, which meant Seth was home since they'd been playing Gran Turismo the night before.

He turned on his heel and headed for the stairs, nearly colliding with Rosa on the way.  

"Uh, sorry," he breathed.  She always made him just a little uncomfortable for some reason.

"No problem," she said dully in her punctuated accent, and Ryan charged up the stairs with relief, taking two at a time.

The sounds of The White Stripes led him down the hall to Seth's room, where he barged in without knocking.  Seth had his back to the door, surfing the internet.

"Yeah," Ryan said breathlessly, "so, you know that Red Dwarf marathon?"  
  


Seth turned in his seat.  "No.  You are not bailing on me again, you are going to appreciate the comedy stylings of Grant Naylor if it kills me.  Or you."  
  


"Well," he said, leaning against the wall.  "How'd you feel about getting smashed with a bunch of beefy soccer players?"  
  


Seth blinked at him.  "Sounds... great?"  
  


"Knew you'd think so."

"Uh, for the record, that was _sarcasm_.  C'mon, what's wrong with a little British humor?  Ben and Jerry's, chips and salsa?  It's unbeatable.  Soccer players and beer, are you _kidding_ me?"  
  


Ryan shifted the weight of his bag.  "I kinda have to go.  It's the end-of-season party."  
  


"No way.  No.  You go.  Me and the misfit crew of the Red Dwarf, that's where the real party will be.  Smeghead."  
  


Ryan squinted at him.  "I can't go to this thing by myself.  And Marissa's busy."  
  


"So I'm your second choice now?"  
  


"...Don't look at me like that."  
  


"Like what?  Dude.  Okay.  Look.  I blew off Summer _and_ Anna for you and Red Dwarf tonight."  
  


Ryan shook his head, not wanting to touch that one.  "I know.  I'm sorry.  But Luke really wants me to go."

Seth stared at Ryan for a moment in disbelief.  "Oh, wait, sorry.  Of _course_.  If _Luke_ asks..."

"He says we have to show face.  And he's right.  Misfits united.  You, too."  
  


"Since when does Luke qualify as a misfit?"

"Have you seen the way everybody's avoiding him?"  
  


"Hadn't noticed," Seth said, sniffing.

Ryan sighed.  "C'mon.  It'll suck, but Chip Saunders is providing the keg, so it's free beer at his expense.  We'll make fun of everybody and leave."  He shrugged hopefully.  Could be up Seth's alley...

Seth's eyes narrowed.  "Ryan.  They'll kick my ass."  
  


"No.  They won't.  Luke and I might be misfits, but nobody's beating us up.  Not on our team, anyway... we could kick everybody else's ass, and they know it."  
  


"When you go to the bathroom.  They'll kick my ass then."  
  


"Seth," Ryan said plaintively.

"What?  Now I'm supposed to enjoy ass-kickings?"

"If anybody kicks your ass, I'll... I'll... you can kick mine."  
  


"Yeah.  Sure I will.  Uh huh."  
  


"Look," Ryan sighed.  "Forget it.  You, me, Red Dwarf. Fine."  He turned to leave.

"Dude.  _Why_ is this so important to you?  I thought you didn't care about the team."  
  


He turned back around.  "Cause I think maybe Luke was right.  I gotta have _some_ pride."

Seth sighed.  "And you can't just go by yourself."  
  


Ryan opened and then closed his mouth.  "No," he said finally, looking down.  "I guess I can't."  
  


Seth rolled his eyes.  "I should not be doing this."  
  


"But - wait -"

"Where is it?"  
  


"Saunders' house."  
  


Seth sucked in his lip as he pondered.  "We don't even need a car, they're walking distance to here."  
  


Ryan looked at him hopefully.  "So... you're in?"  
  


"I should so not be doing this - you know, I hope you remember this.  Some day when I need a favor."  
  


Ryan clapped him on the back.  "Or, could be we're even."  He strode out of the room.

Seth's eyes widened in alarm as they followed him.  "What?  Hey - what's that all about?"  But Ryan only waved a dismissive hand in the air as he disappeared around the corner.


	2. Part Two

**Title:** The Game, Part Two  
**Author:** Kate Monster  
**Rating:** PG to be safe  
**Summary:** Set between "The Secret" and "The Best Chrismukkah Ever". The fall soccer season is over, and it's time to... celebrate? Or at least shake things up a little.   
**Disclaimer:** Characters by the great and powerful Josh Schwartz. Pay no attention to the chick behind the curtain.

PART TWO

Author's Note:  I am greatly saddened by the fact that I have now managed to make Seth a Red Dwarf fan in not one, but two OC fics, and have yet to have any feedback on this issue.  Isn't anyone out there in the cosmos a fan of both Red Dwarf and The OC?  Please?  Aw, smeg.  Just me, I guess.  I maintain that Red Dwarf would totally be in Seth's wheelhouse, though.

Ryan jogged a couple of steps ahead and aimed a kick at a broken stick that had fallen on the sidewalk.  It skittered ahead of them, veering off to the side before landing in a manicured lawn.  He paused to wait for Seth to catch up.

"And with skills like that, the mind boggles as to why your own team spent an entire season playing keep-away," Seth remarked.

Ryan glared at him.  "I can punt farther than two-thirds of those assholes.  You'd never know it to watch our games."  He fell into step beside Seth once more.  
  


"You don't have to tell me, dude.  I was there for the Mater Dei Massacre, remember?"  
  


Ryan grimaced.  "Oh, yeah.  Fourteen to nothing.  That's not a soccer score.  It's a football score."  
  


"Well, I wouldn't know."  
  
"I got it.  Thanks."  Ryan paused.  "I mean, what's the point of another season?  I'm not getting any scholarships by playing solitaire.  It's not enough.  Nordland _and_ Sanchez are ranked higher than me at my own position, _and_ we suck."  
  


"Pride?" Seth guessed.  They glanced at each other and Seth shoved his hands in his pockets.  "College?"

Ryan shook his head in disgust.  "Everybody keeps throwing that around at me.  Scholarship.  So I can go on being somebody's-"

"-Don't say it," Seth interrupted.

Ryan glanced at him sideways.  "Sorry."  
  


"Good.  And you're not.  Especially not if you earn it, though, and for that you need extracurriculars."  
  


"Huh.  Lit Mag need anybody?"  
  


Seth shook his head.  "Pretentious kids who think they know what poetry is, plus Carol Bedilla's gonna be editor next year and you guys would never get along."  
  
Ryan nodded, accepting this.  "Guess there's always archery."

A horn from behind startled both of them.  "Hey!"  Luke crowed, leaning out the window of his truck.  "Chino and Cohen!  You guys made it?"  
  


"Almost, yes, Luke," Seth muttered under his breath to Ryan, "but then you had to intervene.  And now we are leaving."  
  


Ryan shot him daggers.  "Hey there.  Luke."  
  


"Want a ride?"  
  
"No."  
  


"Seth," Ryan hissed under his breath.  "Can it.  Naw, we're good," he called to Luke, raising his voice.

"You sure?"  
  


"We'll see you over there," Ryan assured him.

"All right!" Luke crowed.  "Hey, I got three forties of Beast, and you fellas?  Are top of my list."

The truck roared off and Seth goggled at Ryan.  "Beast?"  
  


"Beer.  It's beer, and you like beer."  
  


"I know what it _is_.  Did Luke just offer us Beast?"  
  


"I think he did.  Yes."

"Is anything, like, you know, _wrong_ with this picture?"  Seth's voice rose, frantic.  
  


"Yeah," Ryan said impatiently.  "Like, ten thousand things.  But that's exactly why we are going."

Seth rolled his head in a circle.  "And they say I'm the crazy one."  
  


"Maybe that's because you are."

"Hey.  I'm not the one willingly taking us into the belly of the beasts.  With the Beast."  
  


"Seth.  I thought we agreed on this."

Seth considered this.  "Yeah, maybe I am a little bit crazy."

  
"Just a little."

"And you're a full-on smeghead."  
  


Ryan squinted.  "Okay.  I give up - what the _hell_ is a smeghead?"  
  


"If we were watching Red Dwarf right now, you'd know," Seth said with smug satisfaction.

Ryan rolled his eyes.  "Enough already."  
  


"Smeghead."  
  


*

Seth glanced at Ryan.  "Door's not ringing itself," he said hopefully.

"I don't know about this."  
  


Seth exhaled sharply.  "Now you have second thoughts?  No.  There's a 40 of Beast with your name on it in there, and we're not getting any younger."  He reached across to ring the bell and Ryan winced.

Saunders opened the door and his face fell.  "Oh.  It's you."  
  


"Hi to you, too, Chip," Seth muttered under his breath in Ryan's direction as Saunders skulked off.

Ryan stared at him.  "You know why he's pissed at you, right?"

"Cause, oh, I don't know, I'm Seth Cohen and I'm at his house?"

"Uh.  Try again.  More like Summer ditching him to be in your harem.  Remember that?"

"Oh, yeah," Seth said.  "That little thing."  
  


Ryan briefly closed his eyes and shook his head.  "Just don't try to talk to Saunders tonight."  
  


"Not planning to."  
  


"Stick with me."

"Dude.  So done."

They exchanged a brief grin before emerging into the kitchen.  Ryan felt a spike in his confidence.  He had Seth.  At least he had Seth.

He spotted the keg in the corner and made a beeline for it, making sure he didn't lose Seth in the process.

"Hey, Chino!"  Luke called.  "You made it!"  He'd apparently already done the finding-the-keg thing and was now doing the drinking-the-beer thing.

Ryan sauntered up beside him and reached for a pair of plastic cups.  "Barely.  But yeah."

"Now the fun can begin!"

"We're not staying long," Ryan warned, and Seth bobbed his head in enthusiastic agreement.

Luke lowered his voice.  "C'mon.  Show face."  
  


"I think we've shown," Seth said, eying Nordland and a funnel, which seemed like the wrong combination even to Ryan.  "Okay.  Bye."  
  


Ryan grabbed his arm.  "Oh, no you don't."  
  


"So.  Cohen," Luke said, grinning.  "I hear you're the big mack daddy around campus these days."  
  


"I'm sorry, what?" Seth asked politely in disbelief, shrugging away from Ryan's grasp.

"Yeah, I trained him well," Ryan said, releasing him.  They exchanged a glance, and Seth narrowed his eyes.

"Mack daddy?"  Seth echoed.

Ryan shrugged in Luke's direction.  "Of course, we still have a few lessons to go."  
  


"Ah, and clearly?  Your humor is reaching new heights.  I'm going to fill these now.  Excuse me."  With that, Seth snatched the cups from Ryan and marched for the keg.

"So that's cool, you know," Luke said, watching him go.  "You and Cohen, you even act like real brothers."  
  


"We do?"  Ryan wasn't entirely sure he agreed with that.

Luke sipped his beer thoughtfully.  "Well.  I beat up my brothers.  But you know what I mean."  
  


"Yeah," Ryan said, watching Seth pump the keg a little too eagerly.  He blinked and shook his head.  "Yeah, I do, kinda."

"That must be cool, you know.  Having a best friend like that."  
  


"I guess," Ryan said slowly.

"I mean, even if it's Cohen."  Ryan turned sharply and Luke put his hands up.  "Hey!  Whoa, now!  You know what I mean."  
  


"Do I?  Cause I don't want to hear you finish that thought."  Ryan crossed his arms, squaring his shoulders.

Luke caught the warning.  "It's cool, man.  I mean, he's cool.  We're – we're cool.  All right?"  
  


Ryan relaxed.  It still shocked the hell out of him that this was Luke now, but he wasn't complaining.  "Better.  Look, he already thinks he's gonna get his ass kicked tonight.  And you're not helping."

"Oh, no.  I'd never-"

"Luke.  Too little.  Too late."  
  


Luke sighed.  "It's different now.  You know that."

"I do," Ryan admitted.  He glanced over at Seth, balancing the cups of beer.  "He doesn't."  
  


Seth returned and handed a cup to Ryan.  "First round's on me."  
  


"Hey.  They should put you on a stage," Ryan deadpanned.

"They should," Seth agreed cheerfully.  He took a swig of beer.  "Oh my Lord, that is terrible."  He took another.

Ryan had to grin into his own beer.  "So now what?  We claim the misfit corner?  Hide in it for an hour or two and jet?"  
  


Luke's face fell.  "But that lacks poetry."  
  


"You know what else lacks poetry?" Seth asked politely.  "Chip Saunders kicking my ass into his pinball machine.  And on that note, I hear him coming now, so living room, exit stage left.  Excuse me."  
  


Amused, Ryan followed Seth out of the kitchen, sensing Luke at his heels.  A few girls were on laps or otherwise associated with the guys in the living room, including Holly, which made Ryan's skin crawl.  He glanced at Luke, who seemed determined to ignore her.  Ryan felt smug with satisfaction at the thought that whatever had passed between the two of them had failed miserably.

Seth pulled Ryan away from Luke.  "Poetry?  What does he know about poetry?"  
  


"Maybe he wants to join Lit Mag next year.  How would he and Carol get along?"  
  


Seth considered this.  "Pretty well, actually.  Hey.  Look, Saunders has Patch Adams on DVD.  And now?  I completely understand him."  He poked the DVD with marked contempt.  
  


Ryan had to grin a little.  He knew Seth was what he needed to survive this night.

"He's got the Kevin Smith movies, too," Ryan pointed out, fingering a copy of Mallrats.

"But dude.  Patch Adams?"

"Hey, look, I'm not defending the guy."

"Good.  Okay, second round?"  
  


Ryan blinked and looked back and forth from his three-quarter-full cup to Seth's empty one.  "You are not gonna get wasted on me tonight, are you?"  
  


"Dude, isn't that the plan?  How else are we gonna survive this?"  
  


Ryan stared at him for a moment before shrugging and tipping his cup up so that he could chug the remaining contents.  He polished it off with a smack and tipped it up to Seth.  "Cheers?"

Seth tilted his head back to the kitchen and Ryan trotted after him, casting a glance in Luke's direction. Luke, for his part, looked pretty much miserable by the fireplace.

"Hey, man, need another beer?" Ryan called out to him.  Ditching him at this stage, even by accident, seemed wrong somehow.

Luke's eyes widened, presumably in shock at their haste.  "Not yet, man."  
  


In the kitchen, a bunch of guys were playing with the blender, something Ryan was very glad had never appealed to Seth.  And Nordland was looking a little unsteady on top of the counter.  The kid couldn't hold his alcohol. And to think, Ryan had been jealous of him when he first came to Newport.  

Ryan closed off the tap with his cup three-quarters-full again.  "Having fun yet?" he asked Seth, who was already taking huge sips.

"This beer is shit," he said between gulps.

"It's Rolling Rock."  
  


Both of them turned in surprise to Luke, who had materialized behind them yet again.

"No wonder," Ryan grunted.

"Don't knock the Rock," Luke said cheerfully.

"Hey," Seth said.  "Poetry."  He glanced with significance at Ryan, who directed his full attention into his cup of beer to keep from laughing or otherwise incriminating himself.

"I can't believe you drink Beast," Ryan said to Luke, trying to keep some semblance of conversation going.

"Yeah," Luke said.  "Yeah, my dad's a fan.  You can take the guy out of college... well, you know the rest."

Ryan frowned.  He wasn't sure that he did.  "So do Chip's parents know that there's a bunch of high school kids and a keg at their place?" he asked curiously.

"Probably," Luke said.  "They don't care.  He's an only child.  He gets away with everything."  
  


"God, I can't stand people like that," Seth grumbled.

"Um, Seth?"  Ryan asked, blinking.

"Hey, I get away with nothing.  _Nothing_.  You know my parents."  Seth tilted his beer cup to his mouth again.

"Okay.  So," Luke started.  "Seriously.  I don't get it.  Didn't they, like, adopt you?  Aren't you two actually adopted brothers, or what?"  
  


"It's complicated," Seth said, even as Ryan shook his head.  They glanced at each other.

"It's more like a legal guardianship situation," Ryan explained quietly, glancing around.  "They, like, sign papers and stuff.  We're not really brothers, we just sort of... stay in the same house."  
  
"I still think that's awesome," Luke said.

"It is?"  Seth asked, glancing at Ryan.  Ryan shook his head.

"How about that Beast?  You fellas ready?"  When neither of them said anything, Luke offered a thumbs-up and slipped off in search of the Beast.

"I could have sworn he used to be Luke," Seth hissed once Luke was out of earshot, waving his cup for emphasis.  "'Awesome'?  Is he kidding me?  I remember last summer.  Do you?  For that matter, does he?"  
  


"Maybe he's repressed it," Ryan said, glancing around.  "C'mon, he's got Beast, give him a chance."  
  


"A chance?  Did I ever tell you about the time he stole my boxer shorts in gym class and threw them on the telephone pole?"

"Many times."  
  


"Ryan.  They had my _name_ in the _waistband_.  Big block letters!"

"I heard," Ryan muttered.  He stared into the bubbles in his beer.

"People still talk about it.  Stuart Eldredge called me Pole-Pants last week in French class."  
  


"Okay," Ryan said, cutting him off.  "I _really_ don't want to hear it."  
  


He instantly regretted it, seeing the hurt look on Seth's face.  "Look, maybe it sounds funny to you," Seth said, "but I was miserable.  For years."  
  


"It's not funny," Ryan said.  "I'm sorry.  Look, I'm the last person who'll argue Luke's not a dumbass.  But he's making an effort.  Remember, he has a gay dad now."  He sipped at the beer.  

"So what, I'm supposed to feel sorry for him?"  
  


"Well?  Yeah."  
  


Seth sighed.  "It's poetic irony, that's what it is."  
  


Ryan gulped his Rolling Rock.  "Notice I'm not disagreeing with you."  
  


"It's justice, man.  Fair and square.  He should suffer."  
  


Ryan squinted as he swirled the beer around in his cup, sloshing against the side.  "I kinda think he is."  
  


"Maybe you're-"

"Hey!"  Luke broke between them.  Who's ready for this?"

Seth glanced at Ryan.  "Bottoms up?"

"C'mon, you see the basement yet?"  Luke asked.  He gestured and moved away.

Seth shot another glance at Ryan.  "I am _only_ following because Luke has Beast in his hands."

"Of course," Ryan agreed seriously.

"You know that."

"Seth.  Move."  
  


Ryan bumped his beer cup against Seth's back, prodding him on, and together, the two of them made their way through the crowd after Luke's disappearing figure.  He wasn't sure he had the greatest feeling about this, but at least?  If nothing else?  He still had Seth.


	3. Part Three

**Title:** The Game, Part Three  
**Author:** Kate Monster  
**Rating:** PG to be safe  
**Summary:** Set between "The Secret" and "The Best Chrismukkah Ever". The fall soccer season is over, and it's time to... celebrate? Or at least shake things up a little.   
**Disclaimer:** Characters by the great and powerful Josh Schwartz. Pay no attention to the chick behind the curtain.

PART THREE

_Thanks much to Shelbecat for technical assistance with the following!_

Together, Seth and Ryan followed Luke to the hallway, and down a flight of stairs.  Ryan glanced at the walls as they made their way down.  Pictures of the Saunders family.  Beaming at him.  Rich bastards.  They were all rich bastards.  All of them.  The whole damn...

Ryan blinked as he stumbled into the room at the bottom of the stairs.  He suddenly felt as if he'd stepped back in time, into the pool hall Trey used to drag him to on Thursday nights, complete with smoky haze, bar mirrors bouncing their logos through the room, and a pool table.  

This was Chip's _house?  _

Three of the guys were prowling the table with their sticks in hand.  The infamous pinball machine was beeping furiously in the corner.  Derek was apparently losing to it, and a couple more girls and guys were lounging on an old sofa.

He almost expected to see Eddie and Francis and Arturo lurking in the shadows, smelling like motor oil and marijuana.  It was about the only thing missing.  Well, the marijuana wasn't, Ryan noticed, sniffing the air.  The kids on the sofa seemed to have that covered.  He squinted through the haze at the group.  Was that really a bong made from a _Dr. Pepper _bottle...?

"Welcome to Club Saunders," Luke said, an air of mystery in his delivery.

Seth wrinkled his nose against the smoke.  "It looks like a basement and smells like cigarettes."  He coughed.  "And... other things."

Ryan frowned.  He was about five minutes from a nicotine craving.  This was no good.

"Oh!"  A cry came up from the pool table, where Andy, Thomas and Javier had just finished their game, Javier sinking the 8-ball.

"Next?" Thomas asked, looking around and spotting the intruders.  "Hey.  Ward. Chino. And Cohen!  Three on three?"

"I don't-" Ryan started to say.

"Hell yeah," Luke said, snatching a stick from the wall.  He grinned wickedly at Ryan and Seth.

"Um," Seth said to Ryan.  Ryan grabbed his elbow and pulled him to the side as Luke sidled up to the guys to confirm the challenge.

"Now," Ryan said under his breath, "is not the time to pick a fight with Luke."  
  


"Why not?" Seth demanded.  "Not like he could even see through all the smoke in here."  He coughed and waved a hand in front of his face.  "Not like he'd remember with all that Beast, either.  We could just run away, dude, he would _never_ know."  
  


"Stop coughing," Ryan ordered.  Seth just goggled at him.  "Look.  Thomas was dogging Luke all night at dinner."  
  


"And we're – what?  Taking Luke's side?"

Ryan raised his eyebrows.  "Feel free to take Thomas's."  
  


"Yeah.  I could, couldn't I?  Or, we could – I don't know, _leave_?"  
  


"Later.  We'll leave.  Later."

"Spoilsport."  Seth quickly shut up as Luke appeared in front of them, holding out cue sticks and Beast.

Seth took his and stared at the stick.  He turned it back and forth.  "Um..."

Luke leaned in.  "So.  You guys any good?  Cause Andy wants to play for money."

Seth shot a pleading look at Ryan.

"Fine," Ryan said.  He leaned over.  "Don't worry.  I'll help you with the game," he whispered.  "Just – I don't have money.  On me.  I mean.  I'll pay you back later?"  
  


Seth raised his eyebrows.  "And at what point do I get to start saying 'I told you this was a bad idea'?"

"Later."  
  


"Roger that."  
  


"Twenty each," Javier said as he maneuvered around the table.  "Cohen?"

Seth sighed, reaching for his wallet.  "Him and me both," he said, slapping forty on the table, seeing Ryan wince out of the corner of his eye.  He glanced directly at Ryan, who looked away.  "We're in."

"Standard rules," Luke said, pointing his stick at Thomas.  "Eight-ball, highs versus lows.  First one to sink calls it.  Last one in is the 8-ball, call the shot."  
  


Seth glanced helplessly at Ryan.

"Don't tell me you never played before."

"Um," Seth said yet again.  His eyes flicked away.

"At all?  Seth.  You have a pool table.  In your student lounge.  At school."

Seth stared back at him and Ryan shrugged.  Okay, to be fair, kids like Seth didn't get all that much access to the pool table at lunchtime.  "Well," Seth mused, "Cousin Jeffrey and I used to play at his house in Boston, except we didn't really use rules.  Or sticks, really..."

It was Ryan's turn to gape.  "How-?"  Seth flicked his wrist impatiently, demonstrating.  "You have _got_ to be kidding me."  
  
"I was twelve.  Okay, when you were twelve, you were smoking and drinking in pool halls.  I know.  This is me we're talking about."  
  
"Don't say smoking," Ryan groaned, shaking his head.  He leaned over.  "Okay. Use your brain.  Watch me.  You took geometry, right?"  
  


"Two years ago.  Yes.  I got a B-plus."

"Okay.  Uh.  Good.  That's good.  It's geometry, geometry and physics.  Just think and keep your head clear, and your hands steady."  
  


Seth frowned.  "I've had, like, three beers."  
  


"Two."  
  


He held up the half-empty Beast.  "Four."  
  
"Seth!"  Ryan exploded, loud enough to draw Luke over.

"Hey, guys, who's up first?"

Seth, wide-eyed, shook his head.

"I'll break," Ryan sighed.  He moved to the table, where Thomas had already readied the game, and leaned over the table, squaring his stick up with the balls.  After a few test thrusts, he rammed the stick over his index finger, scattering the balls across the table.  He pulled the stick back, satisfied, and moved across from Seth, just to keep the kid from getting more nervous and spilling their hand to Andy, Thomas or Javier.

"Lows," Javier said with satisfaction, knocking the five in.  He aimed again and missed.  "Fuck.  Next?"  
  


Luke reached up to chalk his cue stick.  "Stripes, so we're stripes?"  
  


"Go stripes," Seth chanted absent-mindedly.

Ryan wandered over beside Seth and carefully removed the Beast from his hand.

"Hey, hey, what are you doin', man?" Seth protested, his hands following automatically.  
  


Ryan set the can of beer down on the table behind them.  "Don't get drunk.  We got forty bucks and some-odd pride on the line."  
  


"And is this somehow my fault?  I came to this party with the sole purpose of getting drunk."  Seth reached around Ryan and reclaimed his drink.

"Dammit," Luke muttered from the table.  Ryan winced without looking.  There was no need.

"You're after Andy," he whispered to Seth.  "Ready?"  
  


"No."  They turned to watch Andy miss his shot.  "Still no," Seth offered helpfully.

Ryan closed his eyes briefly before holding his hand out to Luke, who offered him the chalk.  "Here."  He took Seth's stick to color the tip.  "Good luck, buddy."  He clapped him on the back.  "Hit our balls, don't touch the 8-ball.  Oh, the ten is your best shot."  
  


"Ten?" Seth asked helplessly, setting his beer down.

Ryan cringed.  "The blue one," he said slowly, pointing.  "Straight on.  It's a good shot."

The tip of Seth's tongue dangled from the side of his mouth as he bent over the table.  He rearranged his left hand several times before finally settling the shaft on it.  Ryan held his breath, watching as Seth aimed, aimed, aimed – 

He shot.

The stick hit the cue ball sharply, causing it to jump in the air, landing with a loud crack a foot away.  It rolled a few more inches before bumping to a halt beside the solid purple ball.

Seth yanked the stick to his side and leaned back to whisper in Ryan's ear.  "Told you I sucked."  
  


As Thomas moved around them with a smirk, Ryan grabbed Seth's elbow and pulled him back. "Okay.  Let's get drastic.  Next time I'm giving you the shot with my finger."  
  


"Yeah.  I just bet you are."  He reached for his drink.

"I'm serious."  Ryan stopped, realizing.  "Not _that_ finger."

Seth shook his head and took another chug of Beast.  "I'm not cheating."  
  


"It's not."  Ryan stopped.  Luke was beckoning.  "Wait here."  
  


He scanned the table and selected a shot.  He bent low over the table and, with a swift motion, launched the cue ball.  To his satisfaction, the target sunk cleanly in the pocket and the white ball rolled to a stop.  He pulled back to smirk at Thomas.

"Nice shot, Chino," Luke called out.  Ryan let his smirk fade and settled back to an appropriately surly expression for his next shot.

Miss.

The frown settled in deeper.  Ryan glanced at the stack of twenties sitting on the corner of the pool table.  This was no good.  No good at all...

Javier reached for the chalk.  "Heard they got a lot of hot air down in Chino."  
  


"Heard it's hotter in Colombia," Ryan shot back, unsure of where to go but guessing that Javier's heritage was as good a place as any to start.  Javier seemed unsure of how to respond to that, and instead lined up a shot that sunk another ball.

"Aw, yeah, that's why it's hot in Colombia," Javier said as he prowled the perimeter of the table in search of his next angle.  He sank another ball.  "On fire."  Miss.

"C'mon, man, it's all you," Ryan sighed as Luke edged past them.

"You have no idea," Seth said under his breath.

"Hush now," Ryan muttered from the corner of his mouth.

Luke missed.

"We're doomed," Seth sing-songed to Ryan.

"Must you be so cynical?"

"I must."

Andy's next shot missed and Ryan made his way around the table, banging the butt of his stick against the floor as he went.  He could really use a smoke about right now.  He wondered what Chip's parents made of all the smoke in the house, then spotted an ash tray on a side table.  Go figure.

Ryan pointedly extended his hand, lining his finger up with Seth's shot.  Their eyes briefly met before Seth settled into the table, concentrating, breathing heavily.  It was all Ryan could do not to look away.

"Ow!"  Seth leapt about two feet in the air as the 10-ball sank into a pocket.  "Did you see that?  Did you? Wow!"

Ryan widened his eyes partly in amazement and partly in terror.  "Great shot."  
  


"Yeah.  Who knew?  That was _awesome_!"  By now he'd made his way around the table to celebrate at Ryan's side.

"Seth.  Seth?  Seth!"  Ryan grabbed the top of Seth's stick and pointed it at the table.  "Take your next shot."

"Oh."  Seth stopped.  "Oh, right.  Right."  
  


"Put the yellow one in the side pocket," Ryan suggested.  He moved away to offer a guide.  He held his breath as Seth aligned the shot, and sighed with disappointment as he hit the ball at an angle, sending it careening across the table into a corner pocket.

"Scratch," Thomas offered helpfully.  "Am I up?"

"Looks like," said Luke.

Trey.  Much as he hated to, Ryan couldn't help but wish for just a moment, a split fleeting second, that he was with Trey and not Seth.  Trey would have sunk that shot if he'd wanted to.  Trey never lost.

He blinked and glanced over at the kids passing the joint over on the couch.  Trey wasn't Seth.  He remembered that.  But still...

"Play it a little less cool, why don't you?" Ryan asked Seth politely under his breath.

Seth polished off the last of the Beast.  "Can I help it if my self-esteem just got a boost?"  
  


"Yes," Ryan snapped.

"Sorry."  
  


"Look, this is all about me and Luke, and those guys.  But you've got a reputation, too."  
  


"Yes, and...?"

Ryan waited a beat.  "Work on it," he suggested, and turned away to watch Thomas sink two more balls before missing.

Ryan rounded the table, studying the angles, before leaning over the corner.  He held his breath, closed one eye, and jabbed his stick.  The cue ball hit one of his balls, knocking it to the wall, where it ricocheted, hit another, and then teetered perilously close to a hole.

"Aw!" Seth and Luke cried out as one, completely unaware of their synchrony.

"Next shot," Ryan said, and held his breath as he thought that through.  Luke.  Luke was next.  Was that good?  Or bad?

Javier missed.

"Weird angle," Ryan said under his breath to Luke.  "Just take it easy, go for the side.  Right on the edge."  
  


"I know, I know," Luke said impatiently.

"No, you don't," Seth whined as Luke's shot slipped, sending the cue ball to the side.  Ryan winced as Andy stepped up, and moved back to Seth's side.

"Don't get too cocky," he whispered.  "Cocky looks bad."

"Cocky looks bad," Seth repeated obediently.  "Cocky looks bad."  
  


"And for the love of all that is holy, keep it down."

"Right."  
  


Andy had missed.  Ryan narrowed his eyes.  These guys weren't all that good.  Probably just drunk, he told himself.  Not that it helped.

"Okay," he muttered to Seth.  "Your shot is straight on dead center.  Watch me."  He wandered around the table, opened his arms, and casually set a finger on the table.

Seth took his time, to the point that Ryan wanted to smack him.  He angled the cue stick over and over, drew and aimed, peered at it until even Luke had had enough.

"Cohen!"

"Shhh!  I'm concentrating," Seth snapped, and it was all Ryan could do to keep his expression even.

Seth snapped the stick with a jerk and Ryan watched with amazement as his ball jolted the pair in and braked to a perfect halt.  He glanced up immediately at Seth's face, which was sufficiently neutral.

"I got it, I got it," Seth muttered to Ryan as he scooted around.  Once Ryan realized the shot he was going for, he cringed.

"No way," he said.

"You'll never get that," Luke added.  "The red one, go for the red one."  
  


"Uh uh," Seth said.  "I got it."  
  


"Seth."  Ryan shot him a warning look.  "C'mon."  He pointedly set a finger near the table edge.

"Nope."  
  


"Seth!"

_Crack_.

Ryan watched in disbelief as Seth sent the ball ricocheting twice off the side to gently nudge another ball in.  

"Damn," Luke marveled. Seth kept a straight face as he circled the table.

"Played for, and got," Seth mumbled to Ryan as he scooted by.

Ryan leaned over.  "Since when are you the shark?"

"Since today, man.  Apparently.  Who knew?"

"Wait," Andy said abruptly, stepping forward.  "Wait.  No fair.  Atwood's giving you the shots."  
  


Seth glanced at Ryan, worried.

"I didn't give him that last one," Ryan pointed out.  He folded his arms as Andy approached.  Seth beamed, turning back to Andy.  Andy looked somewhat confused, which wasn't really an altogether rare occurrence.

"He shoots on his own," Andy said pointedly, walking closer into Ryan's personal space.

"It's okay, team, I got the hang of this," Seth said a little too quickly.

Ryan glanced across the table at Luke, who was fingering his own cue stick nervously.  "You can't call rules now," Luke protested.

Ryan felt all eyes on him and tried to keep his poker face plastered on.  On the one hand... but on the other...  Damn.  

Two balls left on each side, and one 8-ball.  And Seth with a pool cue in his hand and several beers in his belly, waiting in full expectation.

"He shoots alone," Ryan sighed.  Andy beamed and turned back to his team.  Twenty bucks?  What was twenty bucks in Newport, anyway?  About three hours of barely-above-minimum wage work and tips to him, but not to the other guys.  

And pride?  Well, he'd given that up a long, long time ago when he decided to ditch convention and join Seth's team to begin with.  This was just somehow a natural continuation of that.

Satisfied, Seth bent over the table, preparing to take his shot.

To be continued...


	4. Part Four

**Title:** The Game, Part Four  
**Author:** Kate Monster  
**Rating:** PG to be safe  
**Summary:** Set between "The Secret" and "The Best Chrismukkah Ever". The fall soccer season is over, and it's time to... celebrate? Or at least shake things up a little.   
**Disclaimer:** Characters by the great and powerful Josh Schwartz. Pay no attention to the chick behind the curtain.

PART FOUR

Ryan winced as he watched Seth setting his shot.  _Now_ he went for the 11-ball?  He had a good ricochet shot with the 14...  Well, at least better than the 11.

"I haven't played a game like this since I was _fourteen_," Ryan heard his own voice saying urgently.  Seth shot him a look that seemed like it would say _shut the fuck up, motherfucker_, if Seth was capable of ever saying that.  But it was definitely in the subtext of the expression.

"Fourteen, man," Ryan said again, his voice weaker this time.

He swallowed, feeling how dry his mouth suddenly was.  He ran a hand through his hair as Seth's shot missed the 11-ball.  He wove around the table, until he could whisper into Seth's ear.

"What are you doing?" Ryan hissed to him, away from the others.  "I just gave you the damn shot."  
  


"Oh," Seth said with dawning realization, "The _fourteen_.  I get it."  
  


"No, you don't," Ryan snapped.  "You don't get it, Seth."

"But you said no help-"  Seth blinked, shuffled his feet, and looked down.  "Hey.  Sorry."  
  


Ryan heaved a sigh.  "Fine.  So we're not psychic, just – next shot, watch me already."  
  


"I will, I promise," Seth promised sincerely.

"I'm not letting you down just cause some dickhead decides to call rules halfway through the game."

Ryan leaned on his stick and turned to see Thomas take his shot, spinning the cue ball to the 4, which didn't quite make it, but did manage to disrupt the 14 in the process.  Ryan moved in to study the table.  Truth was, he'd had far, _far_ better nights.

But then, he'd had far worse nights, too.

He glanced up at the smoky corner by the stairs.  Nordland and Saunders were watching, whispering, concerned.  The last vestiges of Luke's crowd.  He glanced back at Luke, who was watching him intently, and raised an eyebrow at him.  If Luke cared, he wasn't showing it.  That was the way to go.

Sometimes Ryan remembered that there had been a reason for Luke's popularity in the not-so-distant past.

Ryan set his jaw as he approached the table.  "Eleven in the corner?" he asked Luke.

"Yeah," Seth said automatically.  Ryan glanced at him.  "What?  I'm a shark, man."

Befuddled, Ryan glanced at Luke, who just pointed at the table to confirm his choice of shots.  He nodded and bent over the table.

It was a long shot, and he knew it, and he wasn't disappointed to miss.  Especially not when Javier missed right after him.

Luke managed to sink the 11 at last, looking quite pleased with himself before he scratched on his follow-up shot.  

Andy strolled to the table.  "Andy, you suck," Thomas laughed out loud, causing Andy to scowl furiously and sink the 3.  Ryan eyed the balls left on the table.  The 4, the 14, and the 8.  And Andy didn't have a blessed chance at the 4, thank god.  He was going for a long shot, with a ricochet, there was no chance in hell that he would-

"Fuck," Luke muttered, speaking for their entire team.

"Who's sorry now?" Andy crowed at Thomas, who didn't look unhappy.  "Hell, yeah.  Corner pocket, here we go."  
  


Last shot of the game.  Ryan sighed and turned to Seth, who had re-materialized beside him.  "I'll pay you back, man.  I'm sorry."  The 8-ball and cue-ball were in perfect alignment with the corner pocket.

"No, you won't," Seth said firmly.

"Seth, look-"

"You won't have to."

Ryan scoffed, then squinted at him.  "What are you talking about?"

Andy was starting to line up his shot.  "No helping," Ryan reminded Javier, who shot him a dirty look.  Ryan found himself holding his breath as Andy aimed.

And aimed.

And drew.

_"Wah-chooo!"_

Ryan jumped at the loud sneeze from Seth that broke the silence that had settled over their corner of the room.  Andy jumped as well, and his ball veered to the side.

Andy leapt back, whirling around to face Seth, his nostrils flaring.  "Cohen!  What the fuck was that?"  
  


"The smoke, man, my allergies – hey, look, I'm sorry, but if Saunders isn't gonna ventilate this place properly..."

"I'll show you ventilated," Javier said, cutting in front of Andy and leaning dangerously close.

"Hey, back off," Luke barked, stepping in between Javier and Seth and rising to his full height.  "So the guy sneezed.  Not his fault Andy can't focus.  Are we playing like boys or like men here, anyway?"  
  


"Ask the cheater," Thomas snapped.

Ryan set his jaw, watching the scene silently.  He knew.  Seth sneezed on purpose.  It was a shitty thing to do, totally underhanded, and he knew it.  Because he knew Seth.  The other guys could speculate; Ryan knew for sure.  It was something Seth Cohen was absolutely capable of doing.  But Luke was right.  Andy could have ignored it.  Wasn't Seth's fault.  Well, not entirely.

His eyes quickly studied the scene in front of him.  He didn't need to step in.  Luke was doing a decent job for him, staring Javier down, and the last thing Seth needed right now was Ryan jumping in to defend him.  There had been quite enough of that already this year.

Seth was fine on his own.

Well, if _on his own _involved cowering behind a hostile Luke.  Which was a step up in the cosmic sense of things, Ryan was fairly certain.

Seth was fine on his own.  For a minute.  With Ryan watching from a few feet away.

"I'm sorry, I really am, but it's my turn now," Seth stammered.  "So better luck next time, but can I please take my shot?  Please?"

Andy whirled away from Luke, whose shoulders visibly slumped in relaxation as Seth bent over the table.

"There's no shot," Ryan whispered to Luke as he leaned over.

Seth was squinting at the table.  "Okay.  I can go – no.  Or – oops.  Maybe..."  His voice trailed off.  "Okay, I got nothing."

"They're not allowed to help you," Andy snapped.

"Chill," Luke said, annoyed.

"'S okay, they're no help anyway," Seth said.  Ryan rolled his eyes from behind him.  "Hmm, but this is..."  His stick shot out and Ryan winced automatically, watching as the cue ball careened across the table...

Ricocheted backwards... 

Spun off of the 8-ball...

And sunk the 14.

"Shit!"  Luke screeched, jumping up uncharacteristically.  "Cohen!  Dude!  Rock it!"

Even Ryan had to smile in spite of himself.  "Good shot, buddy.  You really never played pool?"

"Not like this," Seth confirmed.

Ryan paused.  "I don't think I've ever played pool quite like this, either."  They exchanged a brief half-grin, and Ryan saw his own expression mirrored in Seth's.  

No.  No, he didn't want Trey here.  He didn't want Trey here in the least.  In fact, the only person he wanted on his team right now, in this moment, was Seth Cohen, who was indeed standing across from him wearing an identical expression.  It was fine.

"Now _call_ the _pocket_," Ryan muttered to Seth from the corner of his mouth.

"Oh.  Right.  8-ball.  Side pocket."

Ryan turned back around to the table, trying to hide his satisfaction.  He didn't need to set up any shot for Seth.  The shot worked just fine as it was.  Two balls on the table, a straight-on shot, and...

"Cohen," Luke groaned as the 8-ball bounced off the edge of the hole.  

"What?" Seth asked defensively.

"So much for being a shark," Ryan snapped.  He felt all of his brotherly feelings for Seth suddenly draining away.

"I told you.  I told you I sucked!"

"Yeah," Luke said.  The warning tone in his voice was evident.  "Yeah, you sure did."  
  


"Corner pocket.  Right there."

Thomas settled in for the easy shot and sunk it as Ryan, Luke and Seth watched in horror.  He leaned over to swoop the money from the table, handing forty each to Javier and Andy.  

Game over.

Ryan turned around slightly to hide his disgust.  No, it was fine.  Twenty dollars.  Nothing.  Pennies.  There were days when he was pretty sure the food he ganked out of the Cohens' fridge cost more than twenty dollars.  Around here, it was nothing.  Spare change.  Seth probably wouldn't even care if he never paid him back.

"Better luck next time, Luke," Andy said.

"Better luck, better cheating," Javier added.

"We were not cheating," Seth protested.

"Seth," Ryan said in a low tone.  "It's over.  Don't-"

"Give me one example," Seth said, his voice rising.  Ryan closed his eyes briefly, then opened them.  Better to keep an eye on this one.

"Oh, I'll give you one."  Thomas strode up to face him, towering over him, threatening.

"Seth," Ryan said, a little louder.  "Come on.  Let's just go."  
  


"No, I got honor.  I got pride."  Seth's words were already slurring a little.  Not good.  
  


"Not like this you don't," Ryan said, stepping to his side and lowering his voice.  The last thing Seth needed was having Ryan baby him in front of these guys.  But if he didn't-

"He's calling me a liar," Seth protested, pointing.  "A liar."  He stared defiantly up at Thomas, who had a good six inches on him.  
  


Ryan had to bite back the inevitable confirmation that Seth actually _was_ a liar.  "Yeah.  He is.  And we're leaving.  Now."  
  


"I don't think so," Seth said, his head rolling back and forth.

"We don't need this," Ryan said as quietly as he could.  And then, even quieter:  "_I_ don't need this.  C'mon.  Stop it."  
  


Seth froze in mid-scowl and turned to him.  His face softened as the consequences struck him.  "Oh," he said.  "Oh.  Yeah."  
  


"Oh, yeah, what?" Andy asked, moving in closer.  "You punks chickening out on me?"  
  


Newport guys trying to act tough still made Ryan want to laugh hysterically, but he knew that was the wrong reaction.  Definitely the wrong reaction, if he wanted to get out of here without a fight.

"We're leaving," Ryan said, his voice tight.  "Now."

"But the party-" Seth whined.

"C'mon, Cohen, we'll make our own party," Luke said boldly.    
  


Ryan shot him an appreciative look as he inched closer to Seth.  He grabbed Seth's elbow out of sight, to make sure that he didn't bolt or do anything else sudden or unexpected.  "Yeah.  Our own party.  C'mon, Andy, you got your money already, what else is there?"  
  


"Don't you try to hustle me again," Andy said, jabbing a hostile finger.

"Don't worry," Ryan hissed.

"Worry?  Oh, he should worry all right," Seth said, and Ryan felt him trying to free himself casually.  Ryan tightened his hold in response.

"We're. Going," Ryan said, and shoved Seth towards the stairs.  Seth stumbled as they started to move.

"We could totally take them-"

"Going," Ryan said firmly, blocking the stairway so that Seth couldn't get past him again.

Frustrated, Seth turned and stormed up the stairs, shoving his way past Nordland and Saunders.  Ryan stomped up behind him, and heard Luke clomping at his heels.

"What was that?" Ryan demanded as they cleared the stairwell.  "Seth, c'mon!  You know I can't-"  He lowered his voice, glancing around.  "Can't get in any fights," he added quietly, out of hearing range of everyone else.

"Yeah.  Okay.  I know that, but they don't.  You don't think we scared 'em?  Just a little?"  
  


Ryan bit his lip as he glanced down.  "You're scarin' _me_, man."  He shook his head.  
  


"Sorry?" Seth said weakly.

"Yeah, you better be."  
  


"You're totally a pussy, Chino," Luke said, shaking his head as he caught up to them.

"Yeah," Ryan said grimly.  "Yeah.  That's it.  Pussy Atwood.  There's a new one.  Just what I need."  He rolled his head back, staring at the ceiling of Chip's hallway.

"Trust me," Luke said grimly.  "It could be worse."  
  


"Oh yeah," Seth chimed in, his voice eager.  

"And I mean, it's not like we had much face to lose at this point, right?" Luke asked, offering up half of a grin.

Ryan had to grin back.  "You got a point."  
  


Seth turned to Luke.  "Gee.  Wow.  Welcome to the geek side, Luke.  Have a pleasant ride."  His face quickly fell.  "Um.  That wasn't meant to be a gay slur, you know, or..."

"It's fine," Luke said, cutting him off with a hand.

"Yup.  Bigger they are, harder they fall," Seth murmured.  "Oh.  Crap.  Sorry.  That wasn't innuendo, either."  Ryan had to swallow a snort yet again.  Seth was clearly enjoying this more than he was letting on.  Which, to be fair, was maybe a little justified.

"So.  Luke," Ryan said, eager to get the subject off of Seth's subtle needling, "Ever thought about joining Lit Mag?  Cause I was thinkin' about it.  Now that we're all outcasts, you know."  
  


"Speak for yourself, Chino, I'm still a team captain." 

"Yeah, and I'm not so sure I'm up for another season of this," Ryan said.  He was a little surprised at himself.  He wasn't usually that candid with anyone but Seth, and only Seth.  It was the beer, definitely.

"Don't worry about it," Seth said, rubbing his hands.  "Cause, you know, we got what we need right here, and that is a party, and that party is now moving to the Ryan Atwood Poolhouse of Love.  C'mon, follow me."  
  


Ryan had never been so glad to breathe fresh air in his life as he stumbled across Chip's lawn with Seth on one side, Luke on the other. 

"I think I parked – somewhere over here," Luke said, glancing around.  "There – no, that's Carpenter's car..."

"Okay, you know what?" Ryan cut in.  "If you don't know where you parked?  Maybe you shouldn't be driving."

"Whaddareya talking about?" Luke protested, stumbling a step.

"Luke," Ryan sighed.

"What?"

"My house is walking distance to here," Seth said.  "Call your folks or whatever."  He winced immediately, glancing at Ryan to see if he'd caught the gaffe.  But all Ryan did was shake his head.  Luke really wasn't paying that much attention.

Luke shrugged.  "I've stayed out all night before."  He jogged a couple of steps to catch up, having fallen behind again.  "Mom knew I was goin' to a party."

"We can set him up on the futon in the poolhouse," Seth suggested.

Ryan winced tightly.  "Great," he said.  "Or the guest room again."

"In the Big House?  Are you kidding?  If Mom and Dad knew he stayed over cause he was _drunk_?  They're already fussy enough about letting us lead semi-normal lives."  
  


"Your parents are totally strict, man," Luke said.

"You don't know the half of it," Seth grumbled.

"They're not that bad, you know," Ryan countered.  "You can reason with them.  They'd rather have us take him home than send him out drunk, right?"  
  


"I can drive," Luke argued again.

"Give it up, Tarzan," Seth said.  He jogged ahead another step and Ryan stuck to his side, not even missing a beat as they left Luke behind yet again.

No question.  He'd take Seth over Trey any day.  He knew that, really.  To think anything different was just ridiculous.


	5. Part Five

**Title:** The Game, Part Four  
**Author:** Kate Monster  
**Rating:** PG to be safe  
**Summary:** Set between "The Secret" and "The Best Chrismukkah Ever". The fall soccer season is over, and it's time to... celebrate? Or at least shake things up a little.   
**Disclaimer:** Characters by the great and powerful Josh Schwartz. Pay no attention to the chick behind the curtain.

At long last!  Thanks to Shelbecat for, uh, reminding me about this one.  Hopefully everybody else hasn't completely forgotten about it, too.  Well, it's done now.  Ta-da!

PART FIVE

"That was – that was great, we were, yeah..."

The general idea was coming out, but not the words.  Ryan wanted to ridicule Seth for his incoherence, but he knew that he probably wasn't much better himself.  His alcohol tolerance was not what it used to be.  Which was probably a good thing, in the long run, though it didn't feel like it now.

"You," he said, pulling the door open to the pool house, "did okay."  He shouldn't have been surprised by it, but he was.

"I did," Seth said proudly.  "You, on the other hand – you sure you played that game before?"

Ryan rolled his eyes at him.  "Scroghead."

Seth blinked.  "_Smeg_.  Smeghead.  Dude."  He clapped a hand to his forehead, feigning horror.  "Dude!"

"Yeah, you know what I meant."  Ryan tried to force a scowl, but it was hard when he wanted to laugh instead.

"Okay, that does it.  We need to have that marathon, and soon.  We cannot put this off any longer.  You're being deprived of valuable cultural knowledge."

"Marathon?"  Luke asked hopefully.  Ryan turned around.  He had almost forgotten Luke was following them, a step behind.  He'd fallen silent as they'd approached their street.  Of course he had.  He'd grown up coming over to this street, and now he hardly ever had a reason to come by.  It had to be strange.  "Of what?"  Luke pulled the door shut behind him.

Seth studied him critically.  "Yeah, no.  You'd hate it."

"You don't know that."

"Oh yeah.  Yeah, I do."

"Hey, man," Luke protested, his arms spread wide. 

Seth leaned up against the bar, steadying himself on a barstool, and dug in his pocket.  "So do we order pizza now?  Or later?"

"Yeah, with what money?" Ryan asked.  He felt defeated.  Dejected.  On the losing team.  But it wasn't a new feeling by now.  More of an accepted resignation.

"The money from the pool game."

"The pool game."  Ryan blinked.  "You mean the one we lost?"

Seth shrugged.  "Yeah.  That one."  He produced a stack of money.  Ryan immediately snatched it from him and started counting.

"Eighty, a hundred, a hundred and – Seth?"  He looked up, perplexed, holding the money off to the side.

Seth shrugged.  "Ask him."  He pointed to Luke.

Ryan turned around, astonished.  "What?"

"When you were distractin' em."  He shrugged innocently.  "They kinda forgot about the money."

"Whoa.  Wait.  You _stole_ it?"

"Yeah, Chino, you're not the only one around here who can steal things."

"I-"  Ryan was speechless. 

"What?  Dude, everybody in that room was so wasted, nobody even noticed I took the money."

Seth snatched the wad of cash back.  "Thomas can go suck cock, cause I got his money, and Saunders can go suck cock, cause I got Summer Roberts.  Oh.  Um."  Seth glanced at Luke, suddenly concerned again about the possible slur.  "I meant – well, he can suck his own cock."

"Who, Saunders?  He's not that talented," Luke replied immediately, and Ryan fell back on to the bed laughing, holding his chest to try and control the convulsions.  They'd lost the game, but they had the money, and Saunders and Thomas and Andy didn't matter so much anymore.  It was the story of his life in a nutshell somehow, and at the moment, he didn't see much of a problem with that.

"He'll kick our asses on Monday," Ryan pointed out, trying to keep his laughter under control as he rolled on the bed.

"Let him," Luke said.  "If he remembers.  Cohen's right, he was tee-_rashed_.  Besides, that asshole couldn't put a scratch on me if he tried."  He shook his shoulders out.

"You know, maybe we should try for the table at school sometime," Seth suggested.  "Practice a little."

"Oh, hell no," Ryan said right away, pointing a warning finger at him.  "You are never playing for money again."

Seth wrinkled his nose at Ryan before sitting down on the floor in front of one of the chairs, looking somewhat unsteady in the process.  Ryan watched him, a twinge of brotherly concern in the back of his head.  Seth didn't look well.

"So, pizza?" Luke asked, clapping his hands together.

Ryan paused.  "Can we get it without mushrooms?"

"For sure, man.  I hate mushrooms."

"Yeah.  Me, too.  Seth?"  Ryan turned to look in Seth's direction only to notice that Seth's eyes had fallen closed, and his head was already slipping to the side.

Luke watched with concern.  "Should we wake him up?"

"Naw," Ryan sighed.  He watched for a moment.  "He's gonna hurt if he sleeps all night there, though."

Luke nodded knowingly and they moved to Seth's side together.

"Oof."

Ryan struggled with Seth's legs as Luke helped him by heaving the top of Seth's body in to the chair.  They both released him, and his lanky limbs draped over the edge of the chair.  His head rolled back, and Ryan grabbed for a pillow to prop it up just a little.

"Some party, huh?"  Luke asked.

Ryan took a deep breath.  "You're not kidding."

"Think he'll be okay?"

He cast a glance at Seth.  "Yeah," Ryan said.  "Yeah, he'll be fine."  He stopped.  There it was again, that twinge of concern, that Kirsten would wake up and find Seth not in the house and freak out and want to get rid of him.  But that was in the past.  Now?  Now she'd just be relieved that he was with Ryan.  How times changed.

"What?"

Ryan looked back up at Luke.  "What what?"

"You just looked worried for a second."

"Oh," Ryan said dismissively.  "That."  He lumbered around the bed, reaching over to take his wrist cuff off.  "It's just Seth's mom, she used to freak out when we came home late.  Now she's kind of used to it."

Luke glanced at Seth, who was now softly snoring in his drunken state.  "It really is awesome, you know.  I meant that earlier.  You guys are real lucky."

"Lucky," Ryan scoffed, then paused.  Maybe sometimes.  "I guess."

"Yeah.  I mean, look at my friends.  Or the guys I thought were my friends."  He licked his lips and smiled wearily.  "Turns out I didn't know them at all."

"Yeah," Ryan said thoughtfully, although he wasn't sure what to think.

Luke shook his head.  "Man, I wish I had a time machine.  You know?  I wish I knew who my real friends were.  Sooner."

"No you don't," Ryan said, looking up.  "You just wish you were still popular."  
  
Luke stared at him.

Ryan shrugged and looked away.  "Never mind, forget it."

Luke cast his hand at Seth's sleeping form.  "Anyway, you guys are lucky.  That's all I'm sayin'."

Ryan watched as Seth's chest slowly rose and fell.  Every once in a blue moon, maybe Luke was right.  Ryan and Seth were an unbeatable twosome.  Two.  Not three.  Never three.  There never was a chance for them to be three, not even if Luke had a time machine.  It just didn't work like that.  It went beyond that.  It had taken Ryan sixteen years to find a best friend that fit him the way Seth did.  Luke just didn't fit the same way.

How odd, that it should suddenly be Luke who didn't fit.  But life was odd sometimes, Ryan had definitely learned that lesson lately.  There it was.  Luke could tag along.  Luke could follow.  But Luke could never fit.  Not perfectly.  Not with them.

Then again, Ryan had never been a perfectionist.

"So, the guest room," he started, but Luke was already shaking his head.

"I'm just gonna go."

"Are you sure you're okay to drive?" Ryan asked.  "Cause we've got room..."  He trailed off.  Of course they did.  Everyone in Newport had room, what was he _thinking_?

"I'm good," Luke assured him.  He glanced at Seth again.  "Is he-?"

"He'll be fine," Ryan promised.  "I'll look out for him."

"Good," Luke said, relieved.  Relieved.  He was relieved.

Ryan smiled at him wryly.  "G'night, Luke."

"Yeah.  Later.  I'll see you Monday?  In history."

Ryan nodded and followed him to the door, waving as he pulled it closed.

He sighed aloud as he unfastened his watch, moving across the room to set it beside the wrist cuff.

He turned off the light and eased himself onto the bed.  He stared at Seth, whose head had turned slightly to the side in the moonlight, his mouth hanging open just a little.  So open.  So trusting.  He had to smile to himself.  It didn't matter if he was on a soccer team full of creeps, it didn't matter so much anymore that he could never be part of the "in" crowd.  In fact, it never really had.  Not when he had somebody to keep him occupied.  Somebody whose back he could have.  Somebody who liked him the way he was.  Somebody who just... fit.

Newport wouldn't have much of anything for Ryan if it wasn't for Seth, anchoring him here.  As it was, Newport had everything for Ryan.

He settled back on the bed, knowing as he did that things would be okay in the morning.  Even if the Cohens were upset, Seth would have his back, and he'd have Seth's. 

And really, with the two of them together, everything would be okay in the end.


End file.
